


An Unexpected Beginning

by DarthKrande, dragonofdispair



Series: Unrelated Prompt Responses [30]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Cartoon Physics, Crossover, Gen, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthKrande/pseuds/DarthKrande, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackshadow's about to capture a very lucrative bounty when it explodes. It's not even Wheeljack's fault (this time).</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Written together for the writing group's role playing challenge. The challenge was to do a short role play with another group member, then write a short story based on it. And (IMO) it turned out awesome.
> 
> It also turned into a kind of G1 Cartoon AU where, instead of immediately outing themselves to the local humans upon waking, both the Autobots and Decepticons make good on the whole "robots in disguise" concept and keep their fighting covert... then the Yeerks try to invade "their" turf following the events of _The Andalite Chronicles_.
> 
> Beta'ed by FHC_Lynn (without whom this would still a giant mess of grammar errors left over from the original RP, so many, many thanks, b/c that was embarrassing.)

Blackshadow was staring at the wreck, his processors still ringing. As far as he could tell, this was the Yeerk scout ship the Collectors were talking about. Andalite/Yeerk technology was novel and little understood among those who travelled between the stars. He could have sold the parts for reverse-engineering, and he would have got about ten million shanix for them. Twenty if he had managed to get the ship intact. 

Well, apparently…the thing had self-destruct function.

And it exploded when its hunter touched what he thought to have been his prey and trophy.

He stood, unsteadily at first and examined what was left of the Yeerk ship. He picked carefully through the wreckage. Each time he found another thing that could explode, he chuckled softly, and skirted around it. It wasn’t until he found a mech -- a Cybertronian -- that his mood took on a more serious tone.

His find was a carformer: a grey mech with four tyres symmetrically positioned on his frame, some green and red marks also symmetrically, and a faction symbol of the same color in his middle.

"Well… who do we have here?"

The Autobot groaned, optics blinking on muzzily. Anyone else might have been reduced to pure slag by that explosion, but he'd been in a lot of explosions over the vorns. He had been reconfigured to withstand them. "Hi," he said to the mech standing above him. "Can I help ya with something?"

Tough little Autobot, the black one mused. "What were you doing inside?"

Wheeljack tried to move, managed a bit, but quickly flopped down back on the ground. "Looking for parts. What about you? You're pretty far from the usual 'Con spaceways in this system."

"Apparently, the organics caught you when you were looking for parts.” Blackshadow’s voice could have either been incredulous or slightly sarcastic. “What hosts were they using, galatrons?"

"Might've been," Wheeljack answered. His vocal indicators flashed with amusement, not apprehension or worry or anything else an Autobot would normally be feeling in this position, injured and at the mercy of a Decepticon. Maybe the mech’s worry-circuits were defective. "Seems to be a bit of a glitch in my memory. I notice ya didn't answer my question. Kinda rude."

Blackshadow only nodded. 'Rude' didn't even start describing him.

"You didn't even see them. Well, Autobot: We are on the third moon of Jupiter, and you're inside an exploded Yeerk scout shuttle. I suppose you were caught in a greenray."

The Autobot searched his memory. Nothing. Which fit the theory of a time-stop ray. "Could be." Still laying on the ground where the explosion left him, he looked around. "Wonder what Yeerks are doing out this far…" The Sol system was far outside the parasites’ known stomping grounds. "And what'd you do, set off the ship's self-destruct? This thing's useless now!"

He still didn't seem concerned at all about being on the ground at the feet of a Decepticon.

Blackshadow took one last scan of the wreckage, while also running analysis and cross-referencing the Autobot's energy signature with his other files.

"You are the one causing explosions constantly," he simply stated. That’s what his files on the mech said. Explosions. "Wheeljack, if I'm not mistaken. And to answer your question, the Yeerks were hoping to lose me in the planetary ring. I was hoping for a bou - loose me in a bou - loose me in the planetary bounty - loose me bounty -"

Wheeljack blinked. "That ain't good." He tried to move again. This time he managed to lever himself up into a sitting position, and then onto his knees. After a moment, scanning the Con above him, he gave him a light tap -- it wouldn't fix the glitch, but might knock him out of the loop for a minute.

As Wheeljack didn't expect his luck to have it: the larger mech fell on his back. 

Then, he started an emergency reboot. 

As his first reaction, he registered explosion damages on his frame, and an unmistakably Autobot energy signature in his proximity. He jumped up toward the sky and transformed… only to land gracelessly on his right wing, still in robot mode. 

As he was lying in the dirt, his memories replayed to the point of Wheeljack tapping him.

Wheeljack blinked again. "That was unexpected." He shook his head, wobbling a bit himself from his own damages as he stood, but carefully stepped over to the Decepticon, and knelt down next to him. "That's one nasty glitch. You want me to take a look at it?"

"I mind my own business, you mind yours," the Decepticon rudely replied. "You DO have your own business to mind, don't you?"

With that, he sat on the explosion crater's edge and ran a complete damage report of his own frame. The results didn't improve his mood the slightest.

"Given the only ship off this rock's been blown to itty bitty bits -- not even by me, this time -- not really." Wheeljack carefully levered himself down on the crater's edge as well. "Ain't got no where to go. Ain't damaged enough to really do myself harm." He had enough embedded shrapnel, cracked struts, dents and melted pieces that Ratchet’d scream at him for being anywhere but a medical bed, but there was nothing truly debilitating. "Just got a glitchy Con to talk to."

"And you make good of that opportunity," Blackshadow noted. "My comm. is gone."

Belatedly, the Autobot checked his own. Also gone. One of those totally melted bits, in fact.

"Ain't never had an issue talking before. That's not going to change just 'cause you're the only one around." Wheeljack chuckled again, and absently kicked a rock down into the crater. "Even if you don't like answering questions. Maybe I'll just talk until your glitch causes another loop… you want me to just watch you crash? Or maybe try and repair you then? I'm good either way, Con."

Blackshadow gave a bitter laugh. 

"That's not how I'd ever expected an Autobot to torture a Decepticon bou - torture a hunter - an Autobot to a bou - bounty to torture - a hunter to bounty -"

Wheeljack gave the Con another worried look. He stood, unsteadily, again. This time he -- careful of the Decepticon snapping out of it and reacting hostilely -- opened one of the access panels to Blackshadow's processors. He didn't want to network with him. Dangerous, nasty… not doing that, but maybe the glitch was something just jolted out of alignment. 

Or maybe it was caused by that bit of shrapnel? It didn't seem to be damaging anything, just sitting on the circuits and disrupting the electrical flow. Tiny… delicate… a pair of graspers extended from one of his fingers and he removed the tiny sliver of metal. So focused was he on this task the almost forgot his "project" was a Decepticon that might react violently to his actions… Fortunately, this time the ‘Con’s processor didn’t hiccup.

When Blackshadow's processor finally came out of the loop, he gave the Autobot a curious look. 

"Well, a quick thanks doesn't cost anything. So thank you, Wheeljack."

Not waiting for a reply, he went back to check on the Yeerk ship. He hoped it had something salvageable. But as he looked back, he suspected the most functional piece of metal on this moon, was the Autobot engineer.

"Welcome!" Wheeljack called, waving, only a slight sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. Really, an actual thanks was more than he'd been expecting, but he'd hoped… he didn't even know what he'd hoped for really. Instead he stood on the crater's edge, also examining the explosion. Beautiful debris pattern, he thought. He’d already seen it from close-up and from this distance the scatter of debris he could see only confirmed his initial impression when he'd woken up in it: the detonation hadn't left anything behind. Yeerk ships were made to house the organics who were their hosts, not Cybertronians, anyway, but he could have built something if there'd been any of the engines and hull left. There was nothing but shrapnel.

He sighed and sat down again, watching the frustrated Con. Maybe he could build some sort of distress beacon… it'd need an amplifier to get a signal out of Jupiter's magnetic field… he quickly lost himself in thoughts and plans. Absently he picked some of that shrapnel out of his own plating. Tiny pinpricks of pain weren't enough to intrude on the daydreams of blueprints and tools and lists of needed materials. Tools he still had in his subspace, along with some other bits and pieces, but no comm unit to serve as the central component of a distress beacon... 

The Decepticon circled the wreck. On the other side, where he hoped the Autobot would have the hardest time detecting him, he attempted to transform but fell to the ground miserably. And the moon didn't even have a remarkable gravity field! 

He stood up, acting as if nothing just happened. He made a full circle around the debris, then one more. While it looked as if he was still scanning for useful parts, he was actually testing his wings and his balance. The feedback was anything but useful. He had to pay attention to every step he made. 

"Well, we can do one thing" he decided. "I still have a banger gun. It's more for crashing shields and not for communication, but it does create an interplanetary pulse. You could make it bang an Autobot satellite enough for you to be noticed. When rescue comes, I'm going with you."

That was the plan he had come up with so far. It was the best he could do. At least his processors weren't ringing anymore.

Wheeljack jerked, startled. He'd forgotten all about the Decepticon! It took him a moment for him to register the words Blackshadow had said. That would work! Except that it wouldn’t… "Maybe you've got a better fix on our location than I do, but unless I'm way off, we don't have a good line-of-sight on any of the Autobot satellites close enough to shoot." He narrowed his optics, examining the last few minutes of his own visual feed. Now that he was looking for glitches, , it was clear that the Decepticon was damaged and trying to hide it. "Something wrong, Decepticon? Gyro issues?"

"Aftershock issues," Blackshadow replied. "If I give you the banger gun… does your offer about field repairs still stand?"

"You offering to trade? Gun I can't use for repairs you can?" Wheeljack was willing to do the repairs. He'd fixed the glitch for free, since no mech should suffer that sort of thing, but other sorts of repairs… well, he'd thought there might be something left of the ship when he'd first made the offer. But if he was going to be trapped here, he didn't want to give Blackshadow the means to escape. Not alone, anyway. 

And he hadn't forgotten the bounty hunter's original reluctance to answer his questions. "And call me nosy, but I'm still curious what brings you to this rock in the first place."

"The Collectors. The Collectors offered ten million shanix for a Yeerk ship. Double if I get it without a scratch." Bitterly, he signaled to the center of the crater. "There goes my 'not a scratch' as you see. Just call it a hunt that went wrong. Wheeljack, I live for business. I'm sure we can find something mutually agreeable."

"Sure we could," Wheeljack assured. As long as he wasn't what the ‘Con was after, then they could figure something out. "Didn't mean to say we couldn't. Maybe If I get you airborne, you can get us away from Jupiter and in and someplace my folks can pick us up… or even just leave the gun with me then, and take off by yourself. Sound fair?"

"Better than the current situation," Blackshadow decided.

"Come here then," Wheeljack said. "Out of the crater -- don't want any stray radiation from the ship mucking up your insides while I work." He stood and went to over the lip of the crater, looking for a good place for them to settle while repairs were done. He found a large rock in the shelter of an outcropping. It was the best he was likely to find. Ratchet would scold him for using such an unclean place for non-battlefield repairs, but they were stuck until the Con was repaired. That was emergency enough, to his optics.

"Here," he called. "Best spot we're going to find to open you up!" His voice was inordinately cheerful, like his mood when first waking up. Not fitting their situation quite right.

"I'm stranded here with a perv," Blackshadow remarked. But, well, if Wheeljack would have been really dangerous for any reason, he would have already heard about it. The war had gone on long enough for every kind of uncivilized tendencies to surface. The bounty hunter had usually measured them in the sum of shanix the victim’s fellows had offered to pay for the culprit's head. 

He would have known if Wheeljack had any tendencies for dissecting living mechs. Instead all his files just said ‘Explosions’. Just that, ‘Explosions’.

Wheeljack hummed as he opened the bounty hunter's access panel to his diagnostics. "Just remember that frying my processor's counter productive for both of us, 'kay?" he said as he connected to the diagnostics and then continued humming. He didn't try delving deeper than those diagnostics and his presence was a lot more professional than that of many Decepticon medics doing the same task.

At first, he found only a loud mess of disorganized thought. Though, from what he could tell, the Decepticon’s processor was usually an orderly one and he had never had to cope with a similar malfunction before. Beneath that whirly surface, he found the catalog of damages Blackshadow’s self-diagnostics had done. Just a little deeper and he got access to the memories of the events leading to them now sitting on the rocky surface of the space-rock the humans called Amalthea. Since it was unknown to any other civilization and had no name in any other language, Wheeljack supposed that was the proper name for the tiny moon they were stranded on.

Noting the discrepancy between Blackshadow's and his own chronometers, he updated his own systems and then got to work. "Removing the shrapnel helped, but it didn't get rid of the glitch," he said. "You'll keep freezing until it's fixed." He let the Decepticon think about that for a bit, moving on. "I'm a mechanic, not a medic though. You’re just going to have to avoid certain words until you get a Con medic to look." Wheeljack explained cheerfully. “Your transformation and gyro issues are next priority. The rest's just patching and welding." The Autobot disconnected without trying anything funny, then started unlatching access panels to Blackshadow's transformations. He resumed humming.

Blackshadow sat quietly, and compliantly moved whenever the Autobot needed for him to lift up an arm or turn around. His thoughts were elsewhere. This Autobot had no chance of survival unless he repaired Blackshadow properly. The Decepticon was more bothered by the fact that a simple organic breed, after stealing technology from other organics, could achieve the level of effectiveness he’d been unlucky enough to experience. He really didn't like the Yeerks.

"So what’s your last memory, Autobot?" he asked. "How did you end up with these organics? When I asked if they used galatron hosts, you just guessed they did so. Didn’t you see them?"

Wheeljack didn't seem to stop humming, so much as simply added words to it. "Nope! Didn't see them -- move this bit here, need a little more room to get at your transformation cog -- I was piloting my own ship, sweet little Autobot scout ship, and crashed it. Not my fault. No matter what Ratch says, I cannot be held responsible for solar flares. Mars -- that’s where I crashed. Thought I'd seen a bit of wreckage I could use to make repairs. Not Yeerk wreckage. A Decepticon ship." He unexpectedly blasted the sensitive cog with a burst of pressurized air, blowing away dust. "There. Gyro next." He moved onto a different access panel. "Open this… where was I? Yes. A Decepticon ship. Was going through it for parts and then," he shrugs, "I woke up with you looming over me."

That didn't sound good. No, it didn't at all. A trap. And one set not just for any Cybertronian but for one who might try and salvage a wreck for repairs — if not for Wheeljack himself. "So they used a bait. Can you give the identifier of that ship of ours?"

It felt really odd to be perfectly aware while Wheeljack's little graspers conducted tiny repairs on such an intimate part. Not bad, the engineer was actually incredibly gentle and there was no pain, but strange. "I suppose. Clever trap, if it was." If he was also worried, Blackshadow couldn't hear it in his voice. He was still humming.

Another blast of canned air, and he announced he was done with the Decepticon's gyro. "Patching and welding next. Easy as pie!… which I never really understood as a saying, you know. I didn't find making apple pie all that easy the one time I tried it…"

Blackshadow watched him work, and tried to imagine the same mech fashioning organic fuel out of… well, organic fuel. He failed to get the logic of that process. 

"Do you remember anything of that Decepticon ship that might help me identify it?"

"Huh?" Wheeljack blinked, apparently having become so absorbed in his patient's repairs -- or his failure to make pie -- that he'd completely forgotten the question! "Sure. Got a serial number. Partial, at least. Wreck was pretty old too, predating us all waking up on Earth… which yeah. Should have stuck me as strange now that I think about it. No 'Cons out this far before that." He recited about half of the ship’s production code. "That help?" He could be talking about the serial number, but it was clear he was referring to the repair when he puffed air over the circuits he was working on one last time and closed the access panel, gesturing Blackshadow to stand up and try it.

"We lost that shuttle on its way to Nebulos," Blackshadow mused. "Thanks. Should I test those gyros right now?"

"Yeah" Wheeljack stepped back and excitedly indicated Blackshadow should. "If that works, then you should be flight worthy."

Indeed. Blackshadow transformed, although not with the grace he normally would. He took up, carefully testing his maneuvering abilities… then he came back in a slow freefall. 

"Something is coming," he whispered. By the way his behavior had suddenly changed, it was easy to guess it wasn't a group of space-fish he had spotted in the distance. "I don’t think they have seen me. I think that ship gave a distress signal before I hit it too hard."

Wheeljack… well, he didn't grin exactly, because of the solid facial plate, but between the way his optics lit up and the way his vocal indicators flashed, he certainly seemed to. Maniacally. "You think you can take the shields down? We don't want any Yeerk ambushing us again."

Blackshadow's look wandered to the weapon he promised to the Autobot for communication purposes. Now, however… "Their shields will be easy to take down, if that's really what we want."

"I want a crack at their computers, get an idea of what they're doing out here. And what they wanted with a Cybertronian. And you still want a ship, right? Don't say why. That's your glitch-word. Yes or no is enough." With a flourish he pulled an… unholy collection of circuits, chemicals labeled in dangerous looking ways, and wires, "And if you can take down the shields, I think I can take down the ship. Game?"

"So, you seem to have a plan," Blackshadow smiled. "Elaborate."

Instead of saying anything, Wheeljack's optics just glimmered gleefully. He made a gesture that quite clearly said boom, waving the… thing… around precariously. "It's just a small boom. Just a little ding on the engine… nothing I can't repair with the wreckage below!" The inventor and explosives expert was way too enthusiastic about this idea. That file was starting to make complete sense.

"And I thought I was of the fearless kind." Blackshadow shivered. "Well, whatever you want, let's stay here and hope they don't spot us too early. They're going to land near the wreck, to see what happened there."

No stranger to hit and run tactics (no Autobot was), Wheeljack folded down into this alt-form and scooted under a bit of debris at the edge of the crater, where he was not immediately visible. Blackshadow just stayed where he returned to: where he had been repaired. He figured he'd need to guard the place anyway. If the Yeerks found Cybertronian prints here, they'd know what to be prepared for. He wouldn't give them that advantage.

"Time for you to shine." Blackshadow signaled to the Autobot.

Wheeljack watched the ship come in and land, and as it settled on its landing struts, he zoomed off towards the ship. His racing-car alt was not perfectly suited to the Amalthean landscape, but he managed, scraping his undercarriage indiscriminately on various rocks. Almost there, he tumbled out of alt, the dangerous looking explosive in hand… Guessing this was the time for banging the ship a little, Blackshadow aimed at the toughest-looking part. He'd never seen a Yeerk ship from close enough (not a functional one, at least) to know for sure, but he supposed that's where shield generators might be.

The shields shattered with a bright flash of light, but Wheeljack didn't flinch, lunging forward and attaching the explosive to the hull near the engines. The explosive did not have a timer, and instead of pulling a switch, the thing's sheer instability caused it to explode at the moment of impact. 

The explosion sent Wheeljack flying back as he whooped with excitement.

The dust cleared, revealing that for all its bright flash and seeming power, the explosion had actually been fairly small, leaving a neat hole in the connections between the engines and the rest of the ship. Disabling it, as Wheeljack had said it would, not destroying it.

As the Autobot lay on the ground (again) sporting some new scorch marks and laughing, the two organics inside -- a Taxxon and a Hork-Bajir -- looked agitated. They didn't have the equipment to come out onto the cold of space, and without the engines couldn't maneuver or aim the ship's weapons at the two Cybertronians outside. Blackshadow didn't give them time to power up the weapons though. Especially if (as he suspected) the Yeerks had a greenray on board. It wouldn't be nice to be caught in a time-stopping field and be only released when the parasites deem him useful.

Why? he wondered. Usually it wasn't a question a hunter would ask when the reward was as high as this time. But it still didn't make sense to him. Why did the Yeerks take Wheeljack? The Decepticon shipwreck wasn't there to lure the Andalite prince allegedly hiding in this system to their trap. Or at least, it wasn't likely… 

Either way, he trusted the vessel's on-board computer to tell him more than what would be gained from the two organics. With a well aimed shot, he disabled the airlocks and opened a mech-size cargo ramp. The ship's inner atmosphere blew outward. Luckily the wind took the squishiest organic away before it exploded in the near-vacuum. He wasn't as fortunate with the Hork-Bajir. The creature (or more like, both creatures - the Yeerk and the host counted as two individuals) held on for its (their) life even as the inner pressure fell to zero.

"So come, Autobot. Our ride might be dirtier than an empty energon glass on Charr, but if you don't complain, I won't either."

Wheeljack pulled himself off the ground and with a look of sorrow around his optics pulled the Hork-Bajir’s remains out of the cockpit, laying it out carefully on the ground. He didn't try to go so far as a burial but he did say a soft prayer to Primus to guide these souls back to their own land. 

After, he quickly repaired the damage he did to the ship to ground it, reconnected the engines to the rest, and climbed in with the Decepticon. A spacious ship for its two small organic operators, it was a tight fit for a pair of Cybertronians. "Let's see about convincing this computer to play nice," he muttered as he reconfigured one of his connection ports to the ship's input jack.

Then he started humming as he worked.

"I don't object," Blackshadow said. "And we’ll share the bo-- we bount-- we share the fifty---"

With an exasperated optic-roll, Wheeljack reached out and knocked the 'Con lightly on the chest to knock him out of the loop. Percussive maintenance! His favorite kind… This time the Decepticon sobered a lot quicker from the breakdown. He didn't even need to reboot.

"So we share it fifty-fifty. Primus! I cannot say my favorite word."

"I hear you," Wheeljack muttered cheerfully (it seemed to be his default setting -- cheerful or enthusiastic), most of his attention still on hacking the computer and pulling the information he wanted from it, finding the startup sequence, and deciphering the controls. "I'd be pretty bummed if I couldn't say my favorite word too."

Not that -- despite Ratchet's mocking taunts to the contrary — he actually said the word Science! all that often. That was more Perceptor’s thing. The microscope was way more maniacal than Wheeljack ever was. Perceptor was just better at hiding it…

Slowly, the realization that the Decepticon had offered to share his bounty (fairly!) trickled into his awareness past the bubbling screen of science! and discovery! and figuring this out! and he blinked, his vocal indicators flashed with some indecipherable emotion. "You mean that?"

"You're a useful partner, and I want to maintain the possibility of working together in the future." Blackshadow stated. "Can I say 'money'? " He tested while the engineer disconnected from the ship and started manipulating the controls. "OK, apparently I can. Not all is lost. So, Wheeljack, you might have me down as the greedy old 'Con, but then I'm greedy enough not to let a shining opportunity slip from me. So we share the MONEY and you will remember whom to call next time you need a professional hunter."

Suddenly the ship hummed to life and jerked into the air unsteadily. It thumped into a small space rock, and Wheeljack called out "It's fine! Didn't hurt anything… now where are the shields…?" A minute later the shields refreshed and formed a protective cover over the ship. The ship's acceleration, too, was also much steadier after that. The Autobot giggled. "Ain't blowing this baby up today!" 

But underneath his antics, he was considering the Decepticon's words. He'd not truly thought beyond getting back to someplace he could call Cosmos for a pickup, and hopefully not getting shot along the way by his ‘partner’, but if the Con actually was considering a working relationship… that opened up a whole realm of possibilities. 

"I'll do that," he said. "And while I ain't willing to build things for the Decepticons, I'll at least consider it if you call me looking for a repair."

"That's an honor." Blackshadow smirked. Then his gaze fell on the deciphered readouts and the smile froze on his faceplates. "Well, this ship was supposed to follow the first one to Nebulos."

"Huh?" said Wheeljack, sparing a brief moment of attention for the navigation history over his current piloting tasks. The ship lurched in response. "Wonder why they wanted a Cybertronian -- me -- on Nebulos?"

The engineer's curiosity got the better of him and the ship's course altered, away from its trajectory towards Earth and turning towards Nebulos. Blackshadow, however, was less willing to find out. At least not right now.

"SLAG!" was Blackshadow's option of that. He wrested the controls from his impulsive companion and piloted the small ship towards much safer territories. "SLAGGITALL! Wheeljack!"

"What?" was the Autobot's innocent question.

“Wasn’t walking into ONE trap enough for you today?”

.

.

.

End


End file.
